Idioteque
by Jenee
Summary: The complete story of Draco, who stared at Harry, who stared at Seamus.
1. In which there is much staring

Title: Idioteque  
  
Author: Jendle  
  
E-mail: jenny.preston@virgin.net  
  
Disclaimers: Not mine, JKR's, except for the title which is also the title of a song by the god-like geniuses Radiohead. Don't sue me cos my life saving are down to 47p now and I still have Christmas pressie to buy (eek)  
  
Spoilers: Don't think so...not yet, anyway.  
  
Date: 12/11/01  
  
Summary: Draco is staring at Harry, who is staring at Seamus  
  
Warnings: Slash. If you don't like, don't read.  
  
Archive: Yes to the HPSlash archive, anywhere else just ask.  
  
Notes: This is my response to a challenge, which went thusly: 'Draco threw back his head, laughing insanely until he realized the whole class was staring at him and sat down, blushing wildly.' And I have no idea where I found it, so please don't ask...  
  
**  
  
Draco sat in Potions and sulked, letting Pansy Parkinson make notes on what they had to do. In fact, he wasn't sulking, he was staring out of the corner of his eye at Potter, who was staring out of the corner of his eye at Finnegan's arse. Because as far as Draco could tell, Potter had developed an obsession with Finnegan. And not, unsurprisingly, on Draco. So yes, alright, maybe he was sulking, but mostly staring.  
  
"Staring at Finnegan's arse?" he asked sneeringly as they left the classroom at the end of the lesson.  
  
"Why, would you prefer it if he was staring at yours?" Hermione interrupted from behind before grabbing Harry's arm and dragging him off down the corridor before he could reply.  
  
*  
  
"Harry, I've told you, if you don't want people to notice, don't stare all the time," Hermione muttered in annoyance as she walked with him to Quidditch practice.  
  
"But I don't mean to..." Harry said.  
  
"You were, though. Look, either stop staring or stop whingeing when Malfoy notices. Or you could just tell Seamus."  
  
Harry choked. "Tell Seamus? Are you mad? He'd never speak to me again!"  
  
"You thought I'd never speak to you again when I found out," Hermione reminded him.  
  
"But you're...well...you," Harry said feebly. She had a point, logically, but Harry wasn't feeling particularly logical, and nothing else about the situation was.  
  
Hermione looked at him. "My, aren't we the genius today," she said.  
  
"You're turning into McGonnagal," Harry informed her. "Look, I'll be skinned alive if I'm late for practice again."  
  
"See you at dinner, then," Hermione said, and walked off.  
  
Harry shook his head and wandered despondently into the changing rooms. He wished he hadn't told Hermione now...although wait, he hadn't told Hermione, she'd guessed. Which he thought couldn't be too bad, seeing as Hermione knew everything. Of course, if Draco Malfoy had noticed, then perhaps he was being obvious. Unless Draco was watching him all the time, but that was ridiculous. You can only take spying on your enemy so far. Unless...no, he wasn't going there. It was enough trouble wanting Seamus, admitting to Hermione that more than he wanted Seamus, he wanted Draco Malfoy, would be far too scary. So much for Gryffindor courage.  
  
*  
  
*  
  
Pansy threw herself onto a sofa in the Slytherin common room and pouted at Draco. Gods, did she think she was being seductive? Draco held back a shudder at the thought and just looked at her coolly.  
  
"Draaaco," she whined, "why are you always sulking all the time? I'm bored."  
  
"Go and be bored at Blaise, then," he told her. "I'm going to the library."  
  
"Why?"  
  
To get away from you. "Herbology essay. I can't afford any more crap marks."  
  
Pansy raised her eyebrows. "You're worried about Herbology?"  
  
"A bad grade at Christmas is a bad grade at Christmas, Pansy. You know my father," he said.  
  
"I'll come too," she said.  
  
"No, you won't. I told you: go and be bored at Blaise," he said, trying not to sound too hasty.  
  
He grabbed his books and was out of the common room before she could say anything else. It was becoming more and more difficult to avoid throttling her these days. 


	2. In which discoveries are made

Title: Idioteque (2/?)  
  
Author: Jendle  
  
E-mail: jenny.preston@virgin.net  
  
Disclaimers: Not mine, JKR's, except for the title which is also the title of a song by the god-like geniuses Radiohead. Don't sue me cos my life saving are down to 47p now and I still have Christmas pressie to buy (eek)  
  
Spoilers: Don't think so...not yet, anyway.  
  
Date: 12/11/01  
  
Summary: Draco is staring at Harry, who is staring at Seamus  
  
Warnings: Slash. If you don't like, don't read.  
  
Archive: Yes to the HPSlash archive, anywhere else just ask.  
  
Notes: This is my response to a challenge, which went thusly: 'Draco threw back his head, laughing insanely until he realized the whole class was staring at him and sat down, blushing wildly.' And I have no idea where I found it, so please don't ask...  
  
Oh, and for Fanfiction.net readers, the bit at the beginning here is repeated cos it wasn't meant to be part of part 1 (does that make sense?).  
  
*  
  
*  
  
Pansy threw herself onto a sofa in the Slytherin common room and pouted at Draco. Gods, did she think she was being seductive? Draco held back a shudder at the thought and just looked at her coolly.  
  
"Draaaco," she whined, "why are you always sulking all the time? I'm bored."  
  
"Go and be bored at Blaise, then," he told her. "I'm going to the library."  
  
"Why?"  
  
To get away from you. "Herbology essay. I can't afford any more crap marks."  
  
Pansy raised her eyebrows. "You're worried about Herbology?"  
  
"A bad grade at Christmas is a bad grade at Christmas, Pansy. You know my father," he said, truthfully.  
  
"I'll come too," she said.  
  
"No, you won't. I told you: go and be bored at Blaise," he said, trying not to sound too hasty.  
  
He grabbed his books and was out of the common room before she could say anything else. It was becoming more and more difficult to avoid throttling her these days.  
  
He had no intention of going to the library - chances were Pansy would get bored again and go looking for him there. Instead, he dumped his bag in a convenient hideyhole behind a statue of Rupert the Mage - boring looking bastard, he was - and headed for the Quidditch pitch.  
  
Just his luck - it was Gryffindor's practice time, and there was Harry zooming around above everyone else looking unbelievably sexy on his broomstick. Draco had to jump on his mind several times to make it shut up about metaphors and left quickly before someone could accuse him of spying for Slytherin.  
  
Maybe he should go to the library after all. Reluctantly, he collected his bag and headed in that direction. Bored as he was, he deliberately took a more roundabout route in the hope that he would see something more interesting on the way.  
  
Luck was on his side. The Weasley twins, looking particuarly secretive about something, were standing by a statue of Chrestomanci (what kind of name was that, anyway?) whispering and oblivious to his presence. Draco quietly put down his bag and stood silently by the corner to watch.  
  
"Try tickling his feet," one of them said, and evidently they did, because the next thing Draco heard was a politely reproachful voice saying "My dear sirs, was that really neccessary?" and a grinding crunch that was the statue moving.  
  
Draco risked a peep around the corner and saw the Weasley twins retreating into a hole in the wall. That was interesting...he'd have to follow, but some other time when they weren't likely to turn around and walk into him.  
  
This discovery made the Herbology essay slightly easier to cope with, hideously boring as it was. It also made the fact that Potter sat in his direct view at dinner that evening slightly easier, giving him something else to think about other than the Boy who Lived.  
  
*  
  
The Boy who Lived was at that very same meal glad he had a Quidditch match to think about, as Seamus had just sat down opposite him and was talking to his possible girlfriend Lavender Brown - no one was totally sure about Seamus and Lavender.  
  
Harry looked up at Seamus, and ended up looking at Malfoy, who was regarding him with a strange expression. He tried half-heartedly to return a glare, but couldn't quite manage the act, thinking about the strange expression.  
  
"S'up?" Ron asked, following the direction of Harry's unsuccessful look. "Oh, Malfoy. What's he playing at?"  
  
"Dunno," Harry replied, shrugging. Eyeing me up. Oh, shut up and stop being so bloody pathetic.  
  
Not thinking about Malfoy was starting to verge on the impossible these days, Harry realised unhappily. It had been bad enough with Cho Chang, who now seemed to be avoiding him after last year's unpleasant events, but when the obsession was ten times as strong, and for your supposed worst enemy rather than just a Ravenclaw Seeker, it was worse. And someone as prominent in your life as your worst enemy wasn't easy to forget about.  
  
This wasn't the first time he'd caught an odd look of something other than contempt and a hint of jealousy from Malfoy, though. It had been happening quite often, recently, and Harry's over-obsessed mind was starting to consider possibilities that Malfoy felt the same way as Harry did. Bollocks, the rational part of his mind told him. Where were you when this thing started? the rest of him asked.  
  
Harry shook his head violently. Having arguments in his head...he must be going mad like most of the school had expected him to be at the beginning of September.  
  
*  
  
"Will everyone please SHUT UP!" Seamus yelled at his roommates. Harry, lying back on his bed with his head pillowed by his hands, rolled his eyes at Seamus's typical demand for attention.  
  
"Thank you," he said, smiling a smile at the room in general that did strange things to Harry's insides. "I've got something to tell you all."  
  
"You're engaged to Lavendar," Ron suggested.  
  
"No," Seamus said. "I'm not, because I'm not interested in girls. Not that way, anyway."  
  
Harry sat up in surprise. Now or never, his brain told him. "Me too," he said.  
  
Heads swung to look at both of them sitting on beds on opposite sides of the room. Eyebrows were raised. Harry found himself holding his breath. And then Ron shrugged.  
  
"That's nice for you," he said, with the air of someone heard confessions like this every day, and restarted his argument with Dean about the merits of Quidditch over football - Harry was surprised they hadn't just agreed to disagree, after four and a half years of it. Dean looked nonplussed for a second, then replied to Ron's comment about only having one goal with a fierce explanation of why this was a good thing. Neville shrugged and stuck his head back under his bed looking for Trevor.  
  
Harry breathed again, and looked over at Seamus, who was staring at him in disbelief.  
  
Seamus got up and walked over to Harry's bed. "You are? Anyone in particular?"  
  
Harry nodded. "Um...er...um..." he said eloquently, and to his dismay realised he was blushing wildly.  
  
Without warning Seamus leaned forward and kissed him. Harry, with only a slight tinge of there being something missing, kissed back.  
  
*  
  
* 


	3. In which Pansy is once more irritating

Title: Idioteque (3/?)  
  
Author: Jendle  
  
E-mail: jenny.preston@virgin.net  
  
Disclaimers: Not mine, JKR's, except for the title which is also the title of a song by the god-like geniuses Radiohead. Please don't sue me cos I'm skint enough as it is...  
  
Spoilers: Don't think so...not yet, anyway.  
  
Date: 12/11/01  
  
Summary: Draco is staring at Harry, who is staring at Seamus.  
  
Warnings: Slash. If you don't like, don't read.  
  
Archive: Yes to the HPSlash archive, anywhere else just ask.  
  
Notes: This is my response to a challenge, which went thusly: 'Draco threw back his head, laughing insanely until he realized the whole class was staring at him and sat down, blushing wildly.' And I have no idea where I found it, so please don't ask...  
  
*  
  
*  
  
Draco sat down at the breakfast table the next morning sleepily wondering why Potter and Finnegan had just become the centre of attention.  
  
"Eewww!" Pansy exclaimed loudly and suddenly. Draco nearly jumped out of his chair, then turned coldly to face her.  
  
"Pansy, I'm sure whatever it is doesn't mean you have to pierce my eardrums at this hour of the morning," he told her.  
  
Pansy looked horror-stricken. "Potter and Finnegan are...eww..." Lost for words she pointed over at the Gryffindor table, where Potter and Finnegan were engaged in a deep kiss, oblivious to the stares and mutters, and no doubt the disappointed looks from just about every female in the school.  
  
Forget his eardrums, Draco felt as if his heart had just been ripped out of his chest and jumped upon repeatedly by the stupid, selfish Irish bastard who currently had his toungue down Harry's throat. It was really all he could do not to burst out crying into his cornflakes.  
  
"Really, Pansy, anyone would think you wanted Potter for yourself from your reaction," he said, feigning indifference. Join the club, he added silently.  
  
To distract himself, he wandered over to the Gryffindor table as soon as he had finished eating and was happy out loud that at least their defective genes wouldn't be foisted on more unfortunate children.  
  
He really meant to walk off as soon as he said it, but the sight of them playing tonsil tennis yet again was another few footprints on his heart and for a moment he forgot who he was and why he was there. He came to a second later and noticed Granger looking at him oddly.  
  
Oh, gods, don't let her realise, he almost prayed as he quickly walked away. Granger was, he was forced to admit, a clever little Mudblood and he wouldn't put it past her to read his look and run off to tell Potter all about it. And that was the last thing he needed...yes, if he put it to the back of his mind and didn't tell anyone about it, then maybe it would go away and he could get a crush on Blaise Zabini or someone. It would be difficult enough for his father to accept that he was gay, but even worse if he discovered that his son was in love with a Gryffindor, Harry Potter at that.  
  
*  
  
Harry and Seamus were sitting in the library that same evening trying to do a Potions essay when Hermione appeared from behind a stack of books and sat down at the table facing them with an odd expression.  
  
"Harry, can I have a word?" she asked after a long moment of looking at her expectantly. Harry shrugged and followed her out of earshot of Seamus.  
  
Again he looked at her expectantly while she appeared to be struggling with something.  
  
"Harry...look, I don't know how to say this, but..."  
  
"What? Have I grown an extra head or something?" Harry found he had temporarily forgotten how to be worried.  
  
"...I think Malfoy's in love with you."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Malfoy. He...when he came over to the table at breakfast, he just stopped for a moment and stared at you with this weird look on his face."  
  
"I didn't notice him this morning," Harry said, puzzled.  
  
"You were a bit preoccupied with Seamus," Hermione pointed out dryly. "But I've been watching him whenever he's around us today, and he just been not looking at you two; deliberately not looking. And when he thinks no one's looking, he looks like his world's just ended."  
  
Harry swallowed. Malfoy couldn't be in love with him. That was just unfair, now he had Seamus who he was determined to be happy with. He didn't think Ron would ever forgive him if he found out about how he felt about Malfoy. Seamus was a safe bet everyone would be happy with, and besides, it was nice being with him. But it wasn't Malfoy. Draco. Damn.  
  
Hermione was looking at him anxiously. "Are you alright?" she asked.  
  
Harry shook himself. "Fine," he said. "But I bet he isn't. This is Malfoy we're talking about. It's about as likely as me being in love with him." Damn, again.  
  
Hermione had an undoubtedly odd look on her face just then. "Don't be so sure," she said, and left him standing there thinking about the expression he had seen on Malfoy the previous day.  
  
*  
  
*  
  
Draco, meanwhile, was busy telling himself that he had better things to do than mope over someone he didn't even like. Not at all. Nope, he didn't have even the slightest twinge of anything other than hate for Potter. He had more important things to do, like finding out what the Weasley twins had been up to with that Chrestomanci statue.  
  
It opened when he tickled its feet with the same dry 'My dear sir, was that really neccesary', and he found himself face to face with a long, dark passage. He lit his wand and proceeded to explore it.  
  
It seemed to be going downwards and slightly to the left. After a minute or so, there was a fork in it with several crates marked 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' packed into a niche in the wall. Draco declined to look in them, and instead took the passage on the left hand side. This time he was going up, but this made the fact that he shortly emerged behind a tapestry in a dormitory corridor that seemed from the names on the doors to be the Gryffindor boys' no less of a surprise.  
  
He glanced at his watch and realised it was time for him to be back in the Slytherin common room, unless he wanted Snape to rip his head off. But this was certainly an interesting discovery, he thought as he made his way down to the dungeons.  
  
*  
  
* 


	4. In which Hermione interferes

Title: Idioteque (4/?)  
  
Author: Jendle  
  
E-mail: jenny.preston@virgin.net  
  
Disclaimers: Not mine, JKR's, except for the title which is also the title of a song by the god-like geniuses Radiohead. Please don't sue me cos I'm skint enough as it is...  
  
Spoilers: Don't think so...not yet, anyway.  
  
Date: 12/11/01  
  
Summary: Draco is staring at Harry, who is staring at Seamus.  
  
Warnings: Slash. If you don't like, don't read.  
  
Archive: Yes to the HPSlash archive, anywhere else just ask.  
  
Notes: This is my response to a challenge, which went thusly: 'Draco threw back his head, laughing insanely until he realized the whole class was staring at him and sat down, blushing wildly.' And I have no idea where I found it, so please don't ask...  
  
*  
  
*  
  
Harry could feel a glare shooting across the Potions lab from the direction of Malfoy as he and Seamus played footsie under the bench. He hoped Hermione noticed it too, because perhaps then she'd be convinced that Malfoy had only hate for him, and then she'd shut up. Why? Because he was happy with Seamus, that was it, and playing footsie with him under the bench was far preferable to merely staring at his arse from the bench behind.  
  
He risked a glance over at Malfoy as he stood up to start preparing the potion, and caught the Slytherin in the act of staring. Oh. That wasn't a glare, not at him, anyway. That was like the look in the dining room the other day, but more intense and sadder. Where had he got all that from? Intuition? But that wasn't the point. The point was that it looked more like Hermione was right, and if Hermione was right he was a mere legacy, house, and side-in-the-upcoming-war away from what he was sure could possibly be happiness.  
  
Seamus prodded him. "You alright? You look confused."  
  
"It's Potions. What do you expect?" Harry replied with a mock sigh and gave his boyfriend a more or less convincing grin.  
  
Without warning, Snape loomed above them. "Would you kindly stop canoodling and pay attention to your potion before it boils over, Potter, Finnegan?" he said. It wasn't a question. Harry and Seamus quickly busied themselves respectively with turning down the head and stirring the potion as Snape swept away to bestow praise and points in the Slytherin half of the class.  
  
*  
  
Draco once more tore his gaze away from a certain Gryffindor bench as Snape started paying attention to his half of the room. Potter had seen that look, and almost recognised it, he told himself. Damn. If Potter found out about - those feelings that he didn't actually have, seeing as he was just going through a phase - then there would be hell to pay and he'd never be able to look him or the Weasel in the eye again, let alone make them feel like the insignificant scum they were...the Weasel was, anyway. Oh, hell. Just a phase, just a phase, just a phase, he repeated in his head like a mantra.  
  
And he definitely didn't have a hard-on at the idea of Potter playing footsie, either. No way, nope, not at all. He shifted slightly on his stool in order to discreetly rearrange his robes.  
  
*  
  
"Hello? Hermione, are you in there?" Harry asked for the third time as Hermione stared thoughtfully into her soup that evening.  
  
"Wha? Oh, sorry, I was miles away," she said distractedly.  
  
"You still are," Ron pointed out. "What's up?"  
  
"Nothing..." she said, this time looking over Harry's shoulder at someone.  
  
Harry shrugged and went back to the Quidditch conversation he was having with Seamus and Ron. Without warning, Hermione jumped up and left the hall, almost running. Ron shrugged bemusedly.  
  
"Leave her," he said. "She's been acting weird all day. Probably some Arithmancy problem."  
  
Harry had an odd feeling that whatever was bothering Hermione was more than Arithmancy, but he left it anyway with the firm thought that if it was that important, she would have mentioned it.  
  
*  
  
Draco had left the Great Hall early, fed up of seeing the way Potter and Finnegan were sitting so close together. He'd wandered outside to avoid going back to the Slytherin dungeon, and was now sitting by the lake in twilight, throwing stones in the vague hope of attracting the legendary monster to the surface to eat him and save him from all the excessive Harry- thoughts.  
  
"Why don't you tell him," someone said from behind him. Draco jumped and nearly fell into the lake when turned around and saw the Mudblood standing there.  
  
"I beg your pardon?" he said icily.  
  
"Tell Harry," she said patiently. "I'm not blind, even if the rest of the school is."  
  
"What are you talking about?" he asked, in what he hoped was a convincingly confused and patronising tone.  
  
"I've been watching you watching him watching Seamus," she said.  
  
"What?" he asked again, then gave up when she shook her head once. What was the point? "How could you tell?"  
  
"Like I said, I'm not blind. Besides, what's so erotic about Potions that you can sit there with an erection for half the lesson?"  
  
Draco blanched. This was Hermione Granger, alluding to his erection over her best friend with no more concern than she would allow to a fairly easy History of Magic essay. "And what makes you so sure telling him would do me any good? Or is this just another Gryffindor scheme to make me look stupid?"  
  
"Because I've seen the way he looks at you when you're not watching. It's not like the way he looks at Seamus. It's like the way Percy Weasley looks at Oliver Wood?"  
  
"Excuse me? Weasley and Wood?"  
  
"Yes, but Oliver's too obsessed with Quidditch to notice it, the bloody fool, but then Percy hasn't noticed Oliver when he's not playing Quidditch. Stop changing the subject."  
  
"Bossy," he said. Wait - did the Mudblood just swear? Well, you learn something new every day, he thought. Wait - listen to what she said before she mentioned Weasley and Wood. "Oh." Then. "Oh, don't be so dense, Granger. There's no way he'd ever think of me like that."  
  
"That's more or less what Harry said when I mentioned you to him yesterday. That's about when I noticed what his looks meant."  
  
Draco blinked. "You spoke about me to him?"  
  
"Of course I did, he's my best friend. I'd tell Ron if it was him."  
  
Draco had an odd memory of an old Muggle book he'd read once, about an odd girl called Emma who kept sticking her nose in other people's lives. The Mudblood seemed to be turning into her, and he said as much.  
  
She laughed. "I wouldn't have thought Jane Austen was your style."  
  
He mumbled something about Muggle Studies, and she laughed again. He glared. "Look, who asked your opinion, anyway? It's just a phase, it doesn't need you sticking your nose in."  
  
"Just a phase? Come off it, Draco," she said more seriously. "For me, Victor Krum was just a phase. For Harry, it was Cho Chang. Don't belittle this."  
  
"Fuck off," he said sourly. "Bloody Mudblood, getting involved in things that have nothing to do with you."  
  
She gave him a sharp look. "You'll want to get out of that attitude. We're all Mudbloods somewhere along the line. Remember what I said, and go and talk to him." She turned and walked away before Draco could think of a good reply.  
  
*  
  
* 


	5. Which contains an inordinate amount of c...

Eep! Too much coursework, too little time...and unfortunately it's coursework that's going to get me into university, not slash :o(. But here we are, much belated...  
  
Title: Idioteque (5/?)  
  
Author: Jendle  
  
E-mail: jenny.preston@virgin.net  
  
Disclaimers: Not mine, JKR's, except for the title which is also the title of a song by the god-like geniuses Radiohead. Please don't sue me cos I'm skint enough as it is...  
  
Spoilers: Don't think so...not yet, anyway.  
  
Date: 18/12/01 (apologies to anyone reading via ff.n, I forget things easily :o( )  
  
Summary: Draco is staring at Harry, who is staring at Seamus.  
  
Warnings: Slash. If you don't like, don't read.  
  
Archive: Yes to the (possibly mythical) HPSlash archive, anywhere else just ask.  
  
Notes: This is my response to a challenge, which went thusly: 'Draco threw back his head, laughing insanely until he realized the whole class was staring at him and sat down, blushing wildly.' And I have no idea where I found it, so please don't ask...  
  
*  
  
*  
  
Three weeks of stealing glances and angsting later, Harry had come down with flu. Hermione took one look at him when he came down to the common room one morning and dragged him straight off to the infirmary, where his sneeze-punctuated protests fell on deaf ears.  
  
Less than half an hour after he had got up that morning, Harry found himself back in bed, with Madame Pomfrey hovering around complaining that the whole school was going to have it soon at this rate.  
  
"What?" Harry asked blearily.  
  
"You're not the first one...Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell are in the next room, and half the Slytherin Quidditch team turned up five minutes ago," she said as she left the room.  
  
Through the half open door, Harry heard a familiar drawling voice protesting that there was nothing wrong with him, before launching into an impressive coughing fit.  
  
"Nonsense, boy. You're lucky - there's still a bed left. I don't know what I'll do if anyone else comes down with anything," Madame Pomfrey said.  
  
Harry looked at the empty bed next to him with a growing feeling of dread. His fears were confirmed when the door opened fully and Madame Pomfrey ushered Malfoy in. The two boys looked at each other in horror.  
  
"No way," Harry said, at the same time as Malfoy said flatly, "You have got to be kidding."  
  
"It's the only empty bed," Madame Pomfrey assured them. Despite further protestation, she shooed Malfoy - Draco - whoever, Harry told himself, into the empty bed and left the room.  
  
*  
  
Draco couldn't bring himself to say anything, let alone make a suitably sarcastic remark. To be honest, he felt like the invisible gnomes with a feather in his throat had invited their extended family and friends over to bash him over the head with mallets and use an achier version of Cruciatus on his legs and arms.  
  
"Malfoy," Potter - Harry - whoever - said in some kind of greeting, and blew his nose loudly.  
  
"Potter," Draco replied, trying to sound cold but only managing blocked up.  
  
"Must have been the match last week," Potter said. Was he trying to make conversation? Madness.  
  
"Are you trying to make conversation, Potter? I wouldn't object, but I thought we were supposed to be worst enemies." This lengthy speech set him off into another coughing fit.  
  
Potter considerately waited until the fit had subsided before replying. "I can't be arsed. I ache too much to care about the bizarre supremist opinions of your father."  
  
Draco was affronted. "Don't you think they might be my bizarre supremist opinions, too?"  
  
"No. I shouldn't think you'd have the brain to think about it enough to be anything more than a sheep." This time it was Potter who had the coughing fit.  
  
"Great," Draco said. "Not even my worst enemy will take me seriously." He closed his eyes.  
  
"I need a drink," Potter said.  
  
Draco looked pointedly at the jug of water on the table between their beds. "Don't think I'm getting it for you," he said.  
  
"I was thinking of something a little more alchoholic," Potter replied.  
  
"I hope you know I'd help if I could. I'd love to see you with a hangover if you've already got a headache anything like mine," Draco said.  
  
Potter made a face, and the attempt at a conversation seemed to have failed. Well, it had been nice talking to him without the Weasley and the Mudblood around, even a conversation as forced as this one.  
  
No, it hadn't, damn it. The only thing that could be bordering on nice at the moment was some kind of admission of a lack of hate, for starters. And perhaps a miracle cure for flu, as well. But flu aside, why did Potter hate him? Or why didn't he, if the Mudblood was to be believed?  
  
The flu must have been doing weird things to his mind, because then he asked, "Do you hate me, Potter?"  
  
Potter looked surprised. "Do you hate me?"  
  
"This is ridiculous. No, I don't." Fool. If he thinks you hate him, you'll be fine. Now all you can do is go for strong dislike.  
  
"Neither do I."  
  
"So why do you and Weasley act like you do all the time?"  
  
"Um. Self defence, perhaps. Not trying to sound like a toddler, but you started it. And I think Ron probably does hate you."  
  
Draco blinked. "I started it? Who was it that said, and I paraphrase here, 'I can choose my own friends, thank you' and wouldn't shake my hand?"  
  
"Who treated the first person who'd bothered to make friends with me like shit?"  
  
"It was for your own good, Potter. You'd be perfectly safe now if you'd started off on the right side."  
  
Potter snorted at this, which led to a brief coughing fit. "Still expect me to believe your idea of the right side, Malfoy? If you'd thought about it, you'd know that Voldemort is obviously the wrong side to be on," he said when he'd finished.  
  
"Sanctimonious bullshit," Draco muttered, but half heartedly. He had been thinking about it, and conceded that there might be something in what Potter and the Mudblood had said, not that he would admit it. Not yet, anyway. "You know what your Mudblood girlfriend said to me a few weeks ago?"  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"The Mudblood. Granger. Hermione, if you must."  
  
"My girlfriend?"  
  
"Whatever. The point is she said that everyone was a Mudblood somewhere along the line."  
  
"I know, she goes on about it enough. Why was Hermione talking to you?"  
  
"To tell me you fancied me," Draco said, forcing himself to look calm and unconcerned.  
  
Potter burst out into another coughing fit. "She what?" Draco decided to treat this as a rhetorical question. "She told me you were in love with me!"  
  
Draco raised an eyebrow. You don't give a shit, Draco, he told himself. Fortunately, very much like a well-timed plot device (Draco was fascinated by the tricks of Muggle literature), Madame Pomfrey bustled into the room with two steaming bowls of soup.  
  
"Lunch, boys," she said. "Mind you eat it all, you need to keep your energy up to fight the bug."  
  
*  
  
* 


	6. In which there is an ending and loose en...

Title: Idioteque (6/6)  
  
Author: Jendle  
  
E-mail: jenny.preston@virgin.net  
  
Disclaimers: Not mine, JKR's, except for the title which is also the title of a song by the god-like geniuses Radiohead. Please don't sue me cos I'm skint enough as it is...  
  
Spoilers: Don't think so...not yet, anyway.  
  
Date: 8/01/02  
  
Summary: Draco is staring at Harry, who is staring at Seamus.  
  
Warnings: Slash. If you don't like, don't read.  
  
Archive: Ask me if you want it (I'll probably say yes.) The complete Idioteque is also avaliable now on ff.net and soon on http://www.envy.nu/jenee13  
  
Notes: This is my response to a challenge, which went thusly: 'Draco threw back his head, laughing insanely until he realized the whole class was staring at him and sat down, blushing wildly.' I failed miserably to get this in, the envisioned scene turning out to happen both in the dining hall and totally differently, but I thank the challenge anyway for giving me inspiration :o). (What a cop out...)  
  
*  
  
*  
  
During the tense affair of lunch, Draco and Harry both pretended they were too engrossed in eating to carry on with their conversation. Whenever Draco glanced over at Harry, he was making a great show of examining the soup with more attention than it really deserved.  
  
Draco finished first, put the tray on the floor by the bed, and pretended to go to sleep, facing towards the wall. This needed thinking about. A perfectly reasonable conversation with Harry Potter had just been ended by the discovery on both sides that Hermione had been telling them they fancied each other. There were three things very odd about this sentence for Draco. The first was that he had been having a perfectly reasonable conversation with Harry Potter. Granted, it had almost been an argument, but they weren't insulting or trying to kill each other, and it definitely had the air of a friendly discussion. This was quite possibly against the Malfoy family code (although he had no doubt that falling in love with him was equally forbidden). The second thing was that Hermione Granger had been talking to Harry about Draco in a favourable manner, and had been even talking to Draco. The third thing - this one needed the most thinking about - was that the Mudblood had come to the conclusion that, despite Finnegan, Harry liked Draco. Ordinarily, Draco would have ignored this, but she'd been right about his own feelings, so a brainbox like her wouldn't have any trouble with the feelings of her best friend.  
  
So. It seemed likely that Harry liked Draco. Draco was perfectly aware that he liked Harry. Loved him, possibly. And where was this getting him? Why couldn't someone else deal with it? Draco felt far too ill for this amount of thinking. This was lucky, because as soon as Madame Pomfrey noticed that Harry had finished his soup, she let Hermione in to talk to him, or more accurately, at him.  
  
*  
  
Harry looked up at Hermione and sneezed at her.  
  
"You talked to him about me," he said accusingly, gesturing at the sleeping lump of Draco Malfoy.  
  
"Who, the cat's whiskers?" inquired the lump that was, on reflection, probably not asleep, sitting up and blowing his nose.  
  
Harry looked slightly guilty. "Didn't realise you were awake," he said apologetically.  
  
"Don't worry, that was the idea," Draco admitted.  
  
Hermione looked at the two of them with an unreadable expression. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Like shit," Harry answered.  
  
"Like death," Draco answered at the same time. They glared at each other.  
  
Hermione looked exasperated. "Oh, for heaven's sake. What do I have to say to you two? You've been ignoring each other for weeks, and now you know what I said to both of you you're still being like this! It's true, not some evil Hermione-joke for my own amusement. Stop being so bloody pathetic!"  
  
Harry and Draco both jumped, alarmed. Hermione's expression looked exactly like Professor McGonnagal in a bad mood.  
  
"But...Seamus..." Harry pointed out nervously.  
  
"Yes, he needs to talk to you too. He's waiting until I've finished." Harry looked at her in mystification but she didn't enlighten him. "I'll be back after lessons," she said ominously and left.  
  
Harry looked warily at Draco, and caught his eyes. They just sat there and looked at each other across the room for what could have been hours until Seamus opened the door and came in with an odd expression. He looked slighly surprised to see Draco Malfoy in the next bed.  
  
"Something wrong, Finnegan? All the other rooms were full," Draco said coldly. Harry found himself unsurprised at Draco's coldness towards his boyfriend, with the uncomfortable but all the same relieving knowledge he now had.  
  
Seamus shrugged, and turned to Harry. "I...um..." he glanced uncomfortably at Draco, who was watching with interest.  
  
"Fine," Draco said, sighed melodramatically, and turned over to face the wall, burying his head under a pillow. Harry wasn't altogether sure that he wasn't still listening, but Seamus was um-ing again.  
  
"Yes?" Harry prompted him kindly.  
  
"I...Dean...um...well..."  
  
Draco sat up suddenly, proving Harry's suspicion. "What he means, Harry, is that Finnegan and Thomas have found true love and he no longer requires your delightful but un-Dean-like company," he said, and what Hermione had said all fell into place.  
  
Seamus nodded almost gratefully. "It was...nice, though," he said to Harry.  
  
"Yes, it was," Harry said, but he was looking at Draco again and Draco was looking back, and neither didn't notice Seamus's bewildered then understanding look, or the door close as he left quietly.  
  
They just sat and looked at each other, and couldn't stop smiling. After a while, it occurred to Harry that the situation would improve dramatically if they were in the same bed, but as soon as he thought it Draco shook his head and said, "We can't. The beds are spelled so she knows if we get up."  
  
This seemed to break the moment, but it didn't matter because they had as long as it took them to get well to look and talk, and then they had forever.  
  
*  
  
The End  
  
*  
  
A sequel is possible, even probable. Thanks for reading, especially if you sent feedback :o). 


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